Richard said, betting that he was right.
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I suggest that ye return to work and conduct yourself as usually until further notified by this office. On behalf of His Majesty, I must convey the Excise Office’s sincere thanks for your diligence.”
Richard was going to the door when the Collector of Excise spoke again. “If the fraud is as large as you say, Mr. Morgan, there will be an eight-hundred-pound reward, five hundred pounds of which will go to you. After testifying at their trial, of course.”
He could not resist asking. “Who gets the other three hundred?”
“The men who arrest the culprits, Mr. Morgan.”
And that was that. Richard went home.
“You were right, Father,” he said to Dick. “If all turns out as I expect it will, then I will receive five-eighths of an eight-hundred-pound reward.”
Dick looked skeptical. “Three hundred pounds seem excessive for a dozen Excise Men to share for nothing more than the act of arrest.”
Which made Richard laugh. “Father! I had not thought ye so green! I imagine that the Excise Men who do the actual arresting will share fifty pounds of it. The other two hundred and fifty will undoubtedly find their way into Mr. Benjamin Fisher’s pockets.”
On Sunday the 22nd of June a dozen Excise Men chopped down the back door of the Cave distillery, charged into the deserted premises with staves at the ready, and there located four dozen full 50-gallon hogsheads of illicit rum connected to the stills by illicit pipes.
When Mr. Thomas Cave rode up on his horse at two on Monday morning and Mr. William Thorne and Mr. John Trevillian Ceely Trevillian drove up in their geehoe shortly thereafter, the gaping tatters of the door and the Excise seals on everything inside told an unmistakable tale.
“We were rumbled,” said Mr. Thorne, showing his teeth.
Cave shivered in terror. “Ceely, what do we do?”
“As the rum is gone, I suggest we go home,” said Ceely coolly.
“Why are they not here to arrest us?” Cave asked.
“Because they wanted no trouble, Tom. The amount of rum will have told them that there are some ruthless characters involved-it is a hanging offense. An Excise Man is not paid enough to risk a pistol ball in his guts.”
“Our sources should have informed us ahead of time!”
“That they should,” said Ceely grimly, “which leads me to think that this came from the very top and that foreign men were used.”
“Richard Morgan!” snarled Thorne, pounding one fist into the palm of his other hand. “The fucken bugger rumbled us!”
“Richard Morgan?” Trevillian frowned. “You mean that damned goodlooking fellow fixes the leaks?”
Thorne’s eyes dwelled on him in wonder; he lifted his lantern to inspect Ceely’s face closely. “Ye’re a mystery to me, Ceely,” he said slowly. “Is it women ye fancy, or men?”
“Who I fancy is not important, Bill. Go home and start putting a story together for the Collector of Excise. ’Tis you who’ll bear the blame.”
“What d’ye mean, me? We will all bear it!”
“Afraid not,” said Ceely Trevillian lightly, jumping up into the geehoe. “Did you not tell him, Tom?”
“Tell me what, Tom?”
But Mr. Cave could only shiver and shake his head.
“Tom made you the licensee,” said Ceely. “Some time ago, as a matter of fact. I thought it might be a good idea, and he saw my point at once. As for me-I have no connection whatsoever with Cave’s distillery.” He shook the reins to gee up the horses.
William Thorne stood leaden-footed, unable to move. “Where are you going?” he asked feebly.
Ceely’s teeth, very white, flashed in a laugh. “To the Temple Backs, of course, to alert our confederate.”
“Wait for me!”
“You,” said Mr. Ceely Trevillian, “can walk home, Bill.”
The sledge glided off, leaving Thorne to confront Cave.
“How could ye do this to me, Tom?”
Cave’s tongue came out to lick at his lips. “Ceely insisted,” he bleated. “I cannot stand against the man, Bill!”
“And you thought it an excellent idea. You would, you lily-livered old turd!” said Thorne bitterly.
“It is Ceely,” Thomas Cave insisted. “I’ll not leave ye unsupported, that is a promise. Whatever it takes to get you off will be done.” Panting with the effort, he managed to haul himself onto his horse; Thorne made no move to help him.
“I will hold you to that promise, Tom. But more important by far is the murder of Richard Morgan.”
“No!” Cave cried. “Whatever else you do, not that! Excise knows, you fool! Kill their informant and we will all hang!”
“If this comes to trial, I am certainly going to hang, so what matters it to me, eh?” He was shouting now. “Best make sure it never does come to trial, Tom! And that goes for Ceely too! If I go down, Richard Morgan will not be the only snitch! I will bring you and Ceely down with me-we will all go to the gallows! Hear me? All of us!”
Mr. Benjamin Fisher summoned Richard to Excise House early in the morning of the next day, the 23rd of June.
“I advise you not to return to work, Mr. Morgan,” said the Collector of Excise, two spots of color burning in his cheeks. “My fools of men raided Cave’s distillery during the day, so no one was apprehended. All they did was seize the liquor.”
Richard gaped. “Christ!”
“Well but fruitlessly said, sir. I echo your sentiment, but the damage is done. The only one Excise can prosecute is the licensee for having illicit rum on his premises.”
“Old Tom Cave? But he is
“Thomas Cave is not the licensee. That is William Thorne.”
Richard gaped again. “And what of Ceely Trevillian?”
Looking absolutely disgusted, Mr. Fisher squeezed his hands together and leaned forward. “Mr. Morgan, we have no case against anyone save William Thorne.” He put on his spectacles, grimacing. “Mr. Trevillian is extremely well connected, and general opinion around town is that he is an amiable, harmless simpleton. I will interview him for myself, but I must warn you that were it to come to court, it would be your word against his. I am very sorry, but unless new evidence comes to light Mr. Trevillian is unimpeachable. I am not even sure,” he ended, sighing, “that we have enough to hang William Thorne, though he will certainly go down for seven years’ transportation.”
“Cowardice, sir. It is ever the way.” Mr. Fisher took his spectacles off and polished them vigorously, blinking away tears. “Though it is early, Mr. Thomas Cave is already waiting downstairs, I imagine to negotiate a settlement by offering to pay a very large fine. That is where the money lies, Mr. Morgan-I am not so blind that I cannot see that William Thorne is a red herring. Excise will get no recompense out of the licensee, whereas it may from the owner. That includes you. Your reward, I mean.”
As Richard left he encountered Thomas Cave in the foyer, but was wise enough to say nothing as he passed. No point in going to the distillery; he went back to the Cooper’s Arms.
“So I have no job and at least two of the three culprits are to escape justice,” he told Dick. “Oh, if only I had known!”
“It sounds as if Tom Cave will buy Thorne off,” said Dick, and cheered up. “Be thankful for one thing, Richard. No matter which way it goes, ye’ll get that five hundred pounds.”
That was true, but less of a comfort than Dick suspected. At least a part of Richard wanted to see Mr. John Trevillian Ceely Trevillian in the dock. Quite why he did not know, except that it lay in Ceely’s insultingly blatant look of appreciation on that first meeting. I am less than the dust to that conceited, whinnying fop, and I hate him. Yes, hate. For the first time in my life, I am filled with an emotion that held no personal significance for me until now;
